


Whirling In The Willow

by oxma



Category: Full House (US), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Camp, Drawing, Dreams, Full House - Freeform, Gen, Hannibal - Freeform, Hannibal Lecter - Freeform, Insomnia, John Stamos - Freeform, Ladies Fingers, M/M, Okra, Rain, Shoes, Sleep, TGIF, Tapeworms, Trees, Uncle Jesse - Freeform, Will Graham - Freeform, Willows, Worms, anal pore, butthole, chair, glass, penis - Freeform, raining, real person - Freeform, retarded, sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:02:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1405852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxma/pseuds/oxma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who will fill Will Graham's shoes when he goes into custody? Hannibal Lecter takes a new patient to fill the void....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hannibal Lecter, John Stamos/Uncle Jesse do not belong to me...

It was a blustery late afternoon, and Hannibal was expecting a new patient today. Since Will Graham was in custody, the doctor had a slot to fill. And it was a huge slot to fill. 

Hannibal stood by his office window and breathed with a deep and longing sigh as he gazed out into the distance. The trees were blowing with the wind, exposing the silver undersides of the leaves. It was going to rain. When the silver sides of the leaves were exposed, this meant rain would soon be on the way…and the willows would be weeping ….soft wet tears….

A figure suddenly appeared, coming around the corner block, and began making their way up the short walkway to his office building. Hannibal observed the figure; the figure of a man with slicked back ebony hair, jeans, and a white blouse nineteen-ninety-three style that was unbuttoned several buttons down… exposing black greasy chest hair. Hannibal gazed at the hairy chest of what he critically declared as a man of Greek decent. Hannibal was not much a fan of Greek cuisine, but he did enjoy their spicy lamb sausages. He often savored these tasteful sausages, when cooked just right, and slowly…where beads of greasy sweat would find their way through the sausage casings…pulsating through the small holes that would be pricked into the surface as to not allow a blow-out.

Plump and sweaty little lamb sausages.

Hannibal relocated himself at his office desk, and waited for exactly when the clock to read fifteen after four before he went to his office door. When the minute hand struck the three, his expensive Italian shoes he had ordered online from eBay took his body to the entrance, and his large hand turned the knob. 

When the door opened, the sight Hannibal saw was that of an average height man, with definite Grecian features. The man smiled immediately and walked right up to Hannibal with an out stretched hand, begging for a long and hard hand shake.

“Hi, I’m John Stamos, but I would prefer it if you called me Uncle Jesse”, the man said, with white teeth gleaming in fresh salivas.

“Intriguing”…….Hannibal thought, and took a step back, holding the door open to suggest for this “Uncle Jesse” to enter his office. “Please, come in…”

Uncle Jesse entered his new shrink’s office. He had been referred by his previous psychiatrist of only two days. He did not know why. 

After a moment of wondering where to sit, the man sat down at the proper place…where Will Graham use to sit.

Hannibal took the chair opposite, “what is it that you wish to talk about?”

Uncle Jesse crossed his legs in the manliest of ways, “ I can’t sleep. I have tried everything…from pills to masturbation”.

Hannibal raised his brow, “you can’t sleep…how do you feel about this?”

“Tired,” replied Uncle Jesse. 

“Have you tried warm milk?” Hannibal asked, jotting down on his legal pad that this man was retarded or had an infestation of tape worms. 

“Yes,” Uncle Jesse answered, “I have even tried soaking turkey in warm milk, but then I found out on The Google that turkey making you sleepy to be a myth….. so nothing has really helped.”

“So The Google has implemented in your psyche that certain things do not work….” Hannibal straightened up in his chair then, slitting his eyes at this intriguing man, “have you ever tried counting sheep?”

Uncle Jesse phased into deep expression of wonder, but also questioning… “I have…in a way,” he said, “I set up my laptop and put it on MeatSpin dot com and tried counting how many time that guy’s dick whirled around, it sort of worked…but as soon as I would drift off I would jerk awake…. feeling as though I was falling down a set of stairs made of dicks...then they would be coming out of my butthole.”

“May I suggest you make your own video of your own dick whirling around, then try counting it?” Hannibal relaxed into his chair, putting down his moleskin legal pad and awaited Uncle Jesse’s reply. 

Uncle Jesse was lost in thought. Had it been, all this time…that what he was really seeking was his own self gratification to lull him to sleep? He imagined his 14 inch cock whirling in a cycle much like the planets around the sun…like a yoyo….like a pinwheel made of cheap cellophane…like clock hands spinning out of control….like a windmill in a tattering storm…a storm that Dorothy Gale could not even survive…

Hannibal had been watching Uncle Jesse’s reaction for some time, but the man appeared to be thinking long and…hard…lost in metaphors….

The good doctor decided to get up from his chair and sit down at his desk and draw the man. 

Five minutes had gone by and all Hannibal could render was a stick figure with tousled dark hair…sketch style…. and an obnoxious thick penis between the stick legs that wore oval shoes with short lines defining shoe laces on the stick-feet.

Uncle Jesse came out of his thinking-state and looked about the room, “what if the Olsen Twins had dicks?”

Hannibal stopped his rendering…. And slowly looked over to the man in the patient chair…”this has nothing to do with the Olsen Twins, dear Uncle Jesse….even if they did, they would not let you sleep…”

Uncle Jesse was perturbed. 

Hannibal sighed and sat back down in the chair opposite the 90’s TGIF actor man. “Have you tried inserting bratwursts into your anal pore?”

Uncle Jesse cocked a brow, “Not bratswursts, but I have tried Okra…. I have done that….but all in all, that does not even work. I mean, I have TRIED everything. Plus…it pains me to put things inside of me….”

Hannibal clasped his fingers together under his chin, “Mr. Uncle Jesse… I am afraid I cannot help you. I suspect you have an infestation of tapeworms and you need to see your personal physician.”

Repulsed, Uncle Jesse sat there in the patient chair, in disgust with himself and embarrassed….”you… you think so?”

“Yes,” Hannibal replied, “Do you find yourself dragging your ass on the carpet, late at night…as if you were sleep walking…but sleep ass-dragging?”

“Yes….but-“

“-but no. You have tapeworms.” Hannibal stood up, motioning for his new patient to rise as well, “ and you need medical help… now please, go and make an appointment.”

Uncle Jesse stood then, and wiped his hand across the backside of his jeans, as if he were actually wiping away his worms. 

The two men did not speak for several moments until the doctor shooed the other out with a wave of hand gestures. After the man known as Uncle Jesse left, Hannibal closed his office door, and watched the man walk away down from the short walkway. Soon after Hannibal took the chair Uncle Jesse had sat in and threw it out the window with a brief shattering of glass. 

It began to rain.


	2. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uncle Jesse....thinking....and.... wondering where his therapy with Hannibal Lecter will take him.

He had tapeworms. 

It was confirmed.

It was the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to him. More than being divorced from the hottest piece of ass since Molly Ringwald. 

His personal physician had given him a ‘scipt for Frontline PLUS and asked to see him a week later.

Uncle Jesse had never shit out of his ass, ever…as bad…as he did when taking these pills. The Frontline PLUS cleared his intestines out, and he felt empty inside. He wondered how he had gotten the tapeworms… and he figured it could not have been the fleas that infected his greasy chest hair… for they were kind to him, and kept all the bits of crumbles from deep fried onion rings he would eat at his favorite greasy spoon at bay…that would fall into his chest hair…

Uncle Jesse stood near the window of his apartment in Queens, and dragged his hand dramatically down the window as flecks of misty rain scrolled down the panes slowly. He remembered looking in the toilet…Strands of full spaghetti tape worms curled around his fecal matter in a dainty fashion. It was as if the worms wanted to hold onto his turds…as long as they could…before… before The Flush. 

He never did go back to see his personal physician…instead, he found a new one, and asked nonchalantly if he had tapeworms....

The test came up negative….

He was clean. 

It was time to go back to Therapy. 

Because he could still not sleep…..


End file.
